Chapter 241: Selvia
The camp was quieter after the evening drills, the crackle of cooking fires and the soft murmur of students winding down for rest carrying over the night air. The acrid tang of smoke hung low, weaving with the faint smell of boiled grains and stewed meat. A few students laughed around the main fire, their voices carrying easily in the open night, but beyond that the world was hushed, the constant tension of the day softening into tired routine.
Jae had found a place away from the center, sitting cross-legged on a flat stone, the faint warmth of the day still clinging to it. His hands rested loosely on his knees, his breathing even, but his mind refused to still. The raid, the whispers, Sun’s posturing—it all clung to him like dust he couldn’t shake off. He had told himself he didn’t care, that their words couldn’t reach him, but alone with the night, their voices returned like faint echoes. Reckless. Dangerous. Doesn’t listen.
He was still turning the day over in his mind when a lilting voice pulled him back.
"You don’t make it easy to approach you, Jae."
His head lifted. Teacher Selvia stood a few paces away, the lamplight from the camp casting her in a soft glow. Unlike Mr. Han’s stern, soldierly presence, Selvia carried herself with effortless elegance. Her long cloak was swept neatly over one shoulder, her dark hair pinned back just enough to frame sharp features. Even here, in the muddy field camp, she somehow looked as though she belonged in a noble court, untouched by dust or fatigue.
Jae’s lips twitched faintly. "Didn’t realize I needed to be easy to approach."
Selvia’s lips curved into the faintest of smirks as she stepped closer. "Oh, you don’t. But I wanted to talk, and you’ve made a habit of keeping yourself just beyond everyone else’s reach."
He arched a brow, silent. Selvia rarely wasted her words. If she was here, it wasn’t idle curiosity.
With graceful ease, she lowered herself onto the stone beside him. The faint scent of lilac clung to her cloak, subtle but deliberate, the kind of detail she never left to chance. Her gaze lingered on him—not maternal, not purely formal either. There was weight in the way she looked at him, the kind of curiosity that measured, dissected, weighed.
"What’s this about?" he asked finally.
"It’s about you," Selvia replied, her tone soft but firm. "About what you’re becoming."
That almost made him snort. "According to most, I’m becoming reckless. Dangerous. The kind of student who doesn’t listen."
"According to most," she echoed, her eyes glinting faintly in the firelight, "but not to me." She let the words breathe, her gaze steady. "I’ve watched you. You’re strong, yes—but more than that, you’re... stubbornly honest. You don’t hide behind pretense. That’s rare here."
Jae gave a half-shrug, as though brushing it aside. "Never saw the point in pretending."
"And yet," Selvia went on, leaning forward just slightly, "that honesty will paint a target on your back. You saw it today. The nobles will not stop. They cannot. Every time you win, every time you shine, their resentment grows."
Jae frowned, staring past her toward the scattered fires. The truth of it pressed heavier than he wanted to admit. He’d heard the whispers, seen the looks—fear and admiration tangled into something uglier.
Selvia’s voice softened, carrying the faintest trace of a purr. "But power changes things. With allies, with the right... support, you could rise above all of that. You wouldn’t have to endure their petty games."
At that, Jae finally turned to meet her eyes. She was watching him intently, a sly spark in her gaze, as though she expected him to lean closer, to ask what kind of support she meant, to show hunger for what she dangled.
Instead, he shook his head. "I don’t care about rising above anyone. I don’t want politics. I don’t want their games. I just want to fight—for the kingdom, for the people who can’t."
For a moment, Selvia simply stared at him. Then she blinked, slowly, before laughing softly. The sound was low, knowing, and faintly amused. "So earnest. I wondered if it was an act, but no. You really mean it."
"I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t."
Her smirk faded, replaced by something more thoughtful. She studied him in silence, and Jae felt the weight of her gaze, sharper than any blade. Selvia wasn’t like the other instructors. She never raised her voice, never barked orders, but she could cut deeper with a few quiet words than most could with a lecture.
At last she spoke again, her tone quieter, almost distant. "You should know, sincerity like yours is... dangerous. People like Sun, like his mother—they will never believe it. They will twist it until it fits their fears."
Jae exhaled slowly, staring into the flicker of torchlight that danced on the camp’s edge. "Let them twist it. I’ll keep fighting anyway."
The conviction in his voice was steady, but inwardly, he knew the truth wasn’t so simple. He wanted to believe his strength alone was enough—that results would silence doubts. But part of him recognized the trap Selvia hinted at. Sometimes strength only made enemies more determined.
Selvia tilted her head, watching him as though she could read that hesitation. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The camp’s noises drifted around them: the scrape of metal, the faint bark of laughter, the whistle of wind through tents.
Finally, Selvia rose in a smooth motion, brushing the dust from her cloak. She looked down at him, her expression unreadable, no trace of the earlier smirk. "Very well. I won’t press further. But remember this conversation, Jae. You may not want politics, but politics will want you."
Her words carried a finality, as if she were etching them into the air itself. She gave him one last enigmatic smile, then turned, her figure gliding back toward the lights of camp, the lilac scent lingering faintly in her wake.